I have awful imposter syndrome. I’m in a director-level position and still feel inadequate. I was on a call this week with people from across the company who wanted to pick my brain about a particular work campaign I did, and I was pretty sure they all thought, ‘this woman has no clue what she’s talking about.’
So yea, imposter syndrome is definitely my thing. The exception, though, is when I think of myself as a Mom.
Because then, I kick ass.
Rarely can I make a statement or brag on myself without feeling like I don’t really deserve it…
I had my first baby, and three days later, I was home from the hospital…a hot mess. Breastfeeding was not going well.
My son wouldn’t latch. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Squeeze it like a hamburger patty, they said. Breastfeeding is natural, they said. Breast is best, they said.
Lies, all lies.
I would nurse him, stressing the whole time that he wasn’t getting enough milk. Then lay him down and inevitably feel my anxiety rise as the next feeding time starting creeping closer. My nipples hurt like hell. …
It’s not you; it’s me.
Just kidding — it’s 100% you. You’re too controlling, and your time has come.
We’ve been together for as long as I can remember. It wasn’t always toxic, but at some point, you went from a comforting friend to a judgy asshole.
You make me feel like shit about myself, and I don't need that in my life. You judge me for the choices I make, like happy hour drinks and chips and salsa. Where do you even get off? Don’t you know I earned those delicious treats?! I don't see you headed…
I started writing with this dream in mind. I was going to get back to a passion I had ever since I was young. I was going to start writing finally, and by God, it would turn into an awesome side hustle. The bigger dream was that it would eventually turn into a full-time job, and I could leave my corporate gig and work for myself.
I’d spend my days alternating between Martha Stewart and David Sedaris. I’d have these glorious mornings of clarity, where I’d passionately write the wittiest, most thoughtful personal essays, blissed out in a flow state…
I lost 12 lbs during quarantine. While most people were bemoaning the fact that they gained weight, I happily achieved a goal weight that I’d thought was a pipedream.
I never thought I’d see the 120’s again. Those days were gone after I graduated from college. At least that’s how it seemed. I actually think they made a short appearance in my late 20’s, but that was with a personal trainer and only a full-time job. Now I have two full-time jobs — a corporate one, and I’m a mom.
Each year I started to see the scale creep up…
I was 5 days from my due date, home alone, while my husband was at a work dinner. I was waddling my way back to the living room when surprise, surprise — it seemed like I peed myself. I immediately went to the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and text my sister “I think my water broke.”
I called my husband to share the news. It’s fair to say he was substantially more anxious than I was. I told him I was going to take a shower and we’d head to the hospital when he got home. He suggested I…
I’m sitting in the car in the parking lot of the grocery store. My 4-year-old is sleeping in the back. She’s been my ‘ride or die’ all day. We watched her brother play hockey this morning, then went on a girls’ date for lunch. We chatted and danced in the booth at our favorite place and didn’t care who saw or thought we were silly.
We talked about her love of rolls and chocolate-covered strawberries (she IS my kid, after all) and about her upcoming birthday party. …
I’m not a Beatles fan, so let’s start there. I’m not anti- Beatles. It’s just not my jam. I don't get all the hype. I don't understand how their songs are put on a pedestal. Granted, I like some, but mostly when I hear a Beatles song, I wonder how they can be considered such musical royalty when they mostly repeat the same lyrics for 2 minutes. (As I write this, I’m anticipating the slew of mad comments, but whatever, I speak my truth.)
Anyhow, I’m a good wife and a good gift-giver, so when Father’s Day was rolling around…
My alarm went off, and I wasn’t sure what was going on. It took me a minute to realize it was Monday, and I was supposed to be going to the gym.
I rolled out of bed, got dressed, and begrudgingly made my way out the door with eyes half-open. To me, just getting to the gym is half the battle. But today, I realized, although showing up is a triumph in itself, the work doesn’t stop there.
I was doing close-grip chest presses with two 20 lb dumbbells. It wasn’t easy peasy, but I wasn’t grunting and about to…
Get all your work done
Read all the emails
Do all the projects, and do them all at 100%
Don’t drop a ball
Here, take some more balls
Take care of your kids, be a good mom, be present
But don’t act like a mom at work or talk about your kids
Practice self-care; after all, we’re in a pandemic
But don’t forget to get all your shit done, and if you do any self-care, make sure it’s after hours
Enjoy that massage and the guilt coursing through your muscles; it’s easy to relax when you’re brain is still going…
A FT working mom, wife, veteran, and 90’s hip-hop and R&B connoisseur.